


and every star rattled

by sowingpoppies



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:19:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sowingpoppies/pseuds/sowingpoppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He says, Let me go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and every star rattled

1.

 

You weren’t lying when you said that you could feel it, thumping delicately, trapped within the fragile cage of Roxas’s body.

 

You spend one night lying awake for hours with your ear pressed against warm skin, listening, your breath held in close to your throat.

 

_I can hear it_ , you tell him, your eyes closed, trying to picture the secret machinations of his body; blood vessels rushing through narrow tunnels, slipping through an endless maze of twists and turns. _I can hear it. It’s right here._

 

_You know you can’t hear shit_ , he says, and shoves you away so your skin is no longer touching his skin the second he lets go.

 

In the strips of moonlight, he looks tired. The shadows do nothing to hide the black circles below his eyes. He looks like he could sleep for days on end, and you know you should not have woken him. What he needs now is sleep. What you should do is let him sleep.

 

Still you shake your head:

 

_It’s there_.  _I know it is. I can feel it._

 

And it’s beautiful _._

 

2.

 

He says, Let me go.

 

You hold him down and say, This is violence, and kiss him until he bites your tongue and your blood slides down his throat and he turns his head to one side and throws up, his body rejecting your body in every way that it can.

 

He says, Let me go.

 

You say, This is love, and hold him until the shivers leave and the sweat cools and his eyes darken to a deep blue, the heavy hue of the sky in the dead of winter, and you can see your face reflected back, like a pale ghost, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and holding on.

 

He says, Let me go.

 

3.

 

You don’t know how.

 

4.

                                                                                                                       

_Wanting to own something is normal_ , Larxene explains, her fingernails digging shallow graves into your back, and you arch up against her body like a starved thing, you shake your head like a child and gasp,

 

_It’s not like that._

 

_Oh, but it is_ , she says, and laughs into your ear, sharp and loud, and you wince and try to push her away, your fingers scrabbling against damp sheets, slipping against slick skin. Her body weighs heavily on top of yours and you can’t push her away.

 

_Don’t_ , you say.

 

_This need_ , she continues, and grounds down, hard, until you writhe and cry out and see a flare-up of hot  _white_.  _This need to conquer or be conquered, it’s completely natural. It’s the most natural thing about us, Ax._

 

_I’m not like that_ , you say, your eyes squeezed shut, your mind stuck screaming Roxas.  _I’m not -_

 

_You are_ , she says, and you feel her scrape her nail down the side of your face, almost gentle.  _More than anyone I’ve ever known. It’s actually kind of scary._

 

_I don’t want to own him_ , you insist, and you hear her sigh, the rustle of sheets as she pulls away.

                            

_Maybe_ , she says,  _what you want is worse._

 

5.

 

People are always attracted to beautiful things.

 

You only pretend that you’re the exception.

                                                                                                                                                                                          

6.

 

The night before Roxas leaves, you lie beside him on top of the covers and stare up at the ceiling, thinking about all of the places you could go and all of the things you could see. You think about being Somebody, and Nobody, and the hazy space in between where you waver whenever he is around.

 

_It’s not that I don’t want you to know the truth_ , you say softly, and feel him shift closer, his body seeking out the warmth that you are always too eager to give.

 

You wait a few minutes before it is safe to continue,  _It’s not that I can’t live without you._ He mumbles something in his sleep, something that you can’t understand.

 

_It’s not that I need you to love me_ , you whisper,  _I just need you to stay._

 

Your breath catches in your throat when you see his body stiffen, his eyes opening slowly; his hand reaches toward you and you realize that you can’t move.

 

You, the boy with burnt hands from never knowing when to let go.

 

_What are you so scared of?_ he asks, his fingers curling around your shoulder, gently, and your mind stutters, you swallow hard, but the words are gone. You don’t know what he wants to hear.

 

_Axel?_ he says, and his grip loosens.

 

_To be asked to kill you,_ you say, because it’s true, but it isn’t the whole truth, and you scrabble desperately for more words to throw into the silence.

 

_To watch you die_ , you try again, and it’s still only scraping the surface, but you have already shown him in every way that you know how, every way except with words that you have never been able to master, and you hope that it will be enough, and you will be enough, and he will forget about walking away.

 

You startle when you hear his voice:

                                                                                                                         

_I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry. Go back to sleep._

 

But you lie awake for a long time thinking about open doors.

 

7.

 

On the street, in the claustrophobic space between two buildings, you call out his name and watch him turn around slowly and a terrible ache grows in your throat.

 

He stares at you from twenty paces away and it feels like you are trapped in an old western, rain water sliding down both of your faces, blurring your eyes, and you think this is what he would look like if he knew how to cry and you think about drawing a gun filled with blanks and you think about a million different things while he watches you carefully and your mouth does nothing.

 

_Nobody would miss me_ , he says, and you stumble backwards because his gun is real and each word is a bullet and he doesn’t miss, ever, especially when he isn’t trying.

 

He lingers for one more second before he turns around and starts walking and you watch him go and think,  _Please,_ and,  _Please_ , and,  _Don’t_  –

 

8.

 

What you wanted was to die of a broken heart and fuck if the universe isn’t laughing at you right now.

 

9.

 

Naminé asks,  _Why haven’t you given up?_  and her eyes are kind and worried and not enough.

 

You pick up a blue crayon and crumble it between your fingers, the wax flakes melting in the palm of your hand. Tiny tongues of fire creep down from your wrist, unconsciously, and you never meant to send them but you like the way they make the wax melt even faster, staining your skin blue, burning the paper wrapper until your eyes sting with smoke.

 

_I don’t know_ , you lie, and clench your hand into a fist.

 

_It’s not like you’re going to change anything_ , Naminé says, desperation pitching her voice an octave too high, almost shrill. You watch her mouth twist into an ugly shape, struggling to form sharp words that are meant to cut and leave scars.  _It’s not like you can save him now. He’s trapped inside of that town. He’s happy there._

And it’s true. You know all of that is true.

 

You wonder what it means that the knowledge doesn't change your plans at all.

 

10.

                                                                                                                                                                                          

You watch him watching the sunset, surrounded by a boy and a girl and another boy, and you listen to their laughter mingling with the soft summer breeze, a distant train whistle, somebody calling his name like they have known him for years. You can taste your fear, thick in the air, and you wrap your arms around your body and close your eyes tight and think about how he never looked like that when he was with you.

 

11.

 

You lose count of the number of times you pace the floor in front of Kairi’s cage, flinching at shadows, shuddering at noises that never seem to leave the space inside of your head. You can feel the walls closing in on you and it was only ever a matter of time.

 

Kairi grips the bars and watches, her eyes tracking you back and forth, and you are not surprised when she breaks the silence one day and asks,  _Why are you doing this? I don’t understand what you get from doing this. I don’t -_

 

You don’t even mind that her eyes are swimming in pity and horror. You don’t even mind that you wanted her dead a second ago.

 

_Because,_ you tell her.

 

12.

 

(Roxas is beautiful the way nuclear bombs are always beautiful when you’re a million miles away and lonely.)

 

13.                                               

 

You look up and see a blurry face and familiar eyes and a boy who is the wrong boy but you let him cradle you all the same. You are tired so you think, I will lie down here just for a moment, and you try to remember what it was that you wanted to say, what you needed to explain. Something warm and wet soaks into your jacket and your thoughts start to slide together and you hear your name being called from someplace very, very far away -

                                                                                                                                          

14.

 

Somebody says, Let me go.

 

You say, Yeah.

 

Okay.

 


End file.
